Tuesday, May 03, 2011

When I hear a piano and a girl singing
I think of spring.
Petals open and dance in the wind.
Dotted lines move from flower
to flower,
delivering wordless messages.
I hear tiny wings
zipping against cloud blues.
Grassy hills smell of lemons and mint
tumbling head over heels.
I can see the wind and I speak into it.
The flower dust tells me.
I hope it carries the right words.
You should be here to share this
with me.

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